Taking a detour, Konstantin had been unable to resist going to take another look at his creation. He still couldn’t believe they’d pulled it off. He absolutely loved it. Isla had been walking beside him, making small talk, occasionally sneaking glances at him from underneath her Fair Isle bonnet. Once their gloves brushed in the cold air and she had flinched, and he hadn’t been able to tell if it was the good kind of flinch or the bad one.

Now, seeing all the children there, he ran up, more or less like an overgrown child himself.

“Do you like it?” he called out confidently.

Isla smiled; he wasn’t the least bit nervous talking to anyone. Of course she had no idea how many trips he’d had to make with his father to children’s hospitals and schools.

“Now, in Norway we have a song we sing going round the Christmas tree,” he said. “It is called ‘Jeg Er Så Glad Hver Julekveld.’ Do you know it?”

The children all laughed and shouted, “Noooo!”

“Oh,” said Konstantin. “Is there a song you know that would be good for running round a Christmas tree?”

“There’s ‘O Christmas Tree,’” said Effie-Jane, flouncing out her petticoats. Although she was only five she thought that Konstantin looked like the prince in Frozen . Okay, that prince had turned out to be bad, but he was still a prince, so she had decided to like him anyway.

“That’s a really stupid idea,” came an angel’s voice from somewhere nearby, but rather more people were agreeing.

“Okay then,” said Konstantin, keeping a weather eye on the grown-ups. He knew exactly what they were trying to do and it was very much in his interests to stop this happening, and showing them how much the children loved it could surely only help.

“Now if my glamorous assistant will join me . . .”

He meant Isla and held out his hand. She could barely believe it, but stepped forward and took his hand, and then the hand of the child next to her until everyone had linked hands all the way around the great sculpture. The adults were either pushed out of the way or reluctantly made to join in. Konstantin smiled like it was all a coincidence.

“Okay then!” He whispered to Isla: “I do not know this song. Please quickly help me with this song.”

Isla smiled prettily. “Okay! O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree . . . ”

She sounded a little tremulous at first, but the sweetness of her voice at the old melody soon broke through and sounded clear as a bell in the white afternoon, and it wasn’t long before the children joined in.

“How lovely are your branches . . .”

“Oh!” said Konstantin in delight. “I know this!” and instantly joined in in a lovely German baritone: “Wie treu sind deine blätter!”

The children immediately laughed at him and he winked and they all carried on:

“O Christmas tree . . .”